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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28505190">safety in reserve</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryvon/pseuds/gryvon'>gryvon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alpha Peter Hale, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Regency, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, M/M, Nogitsune Trauma, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Omega Verse, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Regency Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:27:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,626</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28505190</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryvon/pseuds/gryvon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lord Peter Hale resigned himself to bachelorhood after an attack on his family left him horribly scarred. When Lord Stilinski asks Peter to marry his son, Peter is surprised to find a kindred soul in the damaged young Omega Stiles.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>400</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>safety in reserve</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiguresan/gifts">HyperLittleNori (Shiguresan)</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The majority of what I know about the Regency era comes from Downton Abbey and Pride &amp; Prejudice. If there's anything glaringly wrong that I should fix, let me know in the comments. :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Lord Noah Stilinski has arrived," the butler informs them with a short bow.</p><p>Talia nods, seeming unsurprised. This is an expected visitor for her, it seems. One she had told Peter nothing about, though given the recent preparations to the Maplebrook House in Beacon Hills, Peter could hazard a guess that this is their new tenant. "Send him in."</p><p>Peter rises. His curiosity is piqued, but he has never been fond of strangers. "Shall I leave you to it?"</p><p>Talia closes her hand gently around his wrist. It's not a tight hold, hardly enough to restrain him but it does give him pause. "Stay, please? I would like your council on this matter."</p><p>Peter's curiosity wouldn't let him leave now, even if he wanted to. He sinks back into his chair just in time for the doors to open. The butler escorts an older gentleman, still spry but greying at the temples and with a face marred by worry. Stilinski approaches and bows, first to Talia, then Peter. "Duchess. Lord Hale."</p><p>If the man is bothered by the scarred half of Peter's face, he shows no sign of it. He hardly even glances at it, though his gaze does sweep Peter with an assessing edge. Curious</p><p>Talia waves Sir Stilinski toward a chair. "Please, have a seat. I hope Maplebrook is to your liking. Are you settling in well?"</p><p>Stilinski nods, though there's something guarded in his expression. "It has been most generous, Your Grace. We arrived late last night. Too late to come calling, I'm afraid. The staff were quite helpful in seeing us settled."</p><p>We? Who else had come to Beacon?</p><p>"And your son?" Talia asks, effectively answering Peter's unspoken question.</p><p>A lord's son here, at the height of the season? Was it disgrace that pulled him away or another matter?</p><p>Stilinski sighs, his gaze dropping to his hands. "He has good days and bad days. Today was not a good day." </p><p>Stilinski's gaze flickers to Peter again. He wants something from Peter, but what? If he'd come seeking the Alpha bite to cure whatever ailed his son, surely, he'd be imploring Talia, not Peter. Peter was many things, but a healer was not one of them. Perhaps it's a curse? Outside of London, few have the resources and knowledge of the supernatural that Peter does.</p><p>"Whatever it is you want to ask me, just do it," Peter says, feigning boredom. He's not in the mood for drawn-out games.</p><p>"Peter!" Talia hisses his name in reprimand but Stilinski waves away her concern.</p><p>"It's fine. He has the right of it." Stilinski shifts in his seat so that he's fully facing Peter. "I'm an older man, Lord Hale, and human. I know I'm not long for this world, especially considering my profession. My son, Stiles, is an omega, and I need to know that he'll will be taken care of when I'm gone. It is our hope, the Duchess and mine, that you would consider taking my son's hand in marriage."</p><p>That is certainly not what Peter was expecting. He falls heavily against the back of his chair and stares, first at this strange lord who would trust his omega son to a man like Peter Hale, then at Talia who would even consider such an option. The reasons this would happen are finite, leaving him with one question, "What happened to your son to make a disfigured reclusive Alpha your best option?"</p><p>"Peter." Talia's voice is soft this time, not in reprimand but sympathy. She reaches across the distance between their chairs to clasp his wrist in an offer of comfort.</p><p>Peter is a pragmatic man. He knew as soon as he woke from his coma that his prospects of obtaining a mate—any mate, let alone a precious omega—were done for. Rescuing his family from Kate Argent's attempt to burn them to death in this very mansion did give him a reputation for fierce protectiveness and bravery, but it also left him covered in burn scars that his werewolf healing couldn't erase. He withdrew from society and keeps to himself on his family's lands. He is content with his lot, such as it is. No omega wants that.</p><p>Stilinski sighs and looks down at his hands again. "The Duchess knows and I've no doubt you will soon if news hasn't reached the countryside yet." Stilinski takes a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever sordid tale he's about to impart, and meets Peter's gaze with determination. "You heard about the nogitsune who terrorized London?"</p><p>That was not the turn Peter expected this conversation to take. He pauses for a moment, startled, then nods. "Yes, of course. Terrible business." Dozens were killed all over London, commoners and nobility. "I heard it was defeated by an Alpha's bite."</p><p>Stilinski doesn't hesitate. "The nogitsune was my son."</p><p>It all makes horrible, terrible sense now. Peter is curiouser now about the strange Stilinski boy than ever. What is it like to have been possessed by a nogitsune? What does he remember?</p><p>"We managed to separate the two," Stilinski continues, heedless of the questions building in Peter's mind. "It kept Stiles's face afterward, up until it died. Stiles blames himself for what the nogitsune did, including murdering his best friend's fiancé. He is...." Here Stilinski hesitates, his determination failing him in the face of his son's personal tragedy. "He's not well."</p><p>All is clear now. Peter nods once and stands. "I understand your position, but I will not be used as the leftovers when all other options are gone."</p><p>Stilinski's face falls. Talia shouts after him as he marches out the door, but Peter does not turn. He doesn't stop. His pride, what little is left of it, will not allow it.</p><hr/><p>Talia finds him in the wilderness that evening. Peter is tempted to slink away through the underbrush but he knows she's seen him and to do so would only exasperate them both. He stays where he is, sitting beneath a tall pine, and doesn't change back to his human form. He's said his piece. </p><p>Talia drops to the forest floor next to him, heedless of the dirt and grass's effect on her clothing. "I understand how you feel, Peter."</p><p>He huffs. No one understands what he feels. He's an outcast of society, a ghost that haunts Beacon Manor and the surrounding hills.</p><p>"I understand," Talia repeats, "and I sympathize, but the matter with Lord Stilinski's son...." She pauses and drops a hand on his scruff. It's not there to hold him, but rather in a wordless gesture of comfort. "It's not about you."</p><p>Peter lifts his head to stare at her.</p><p>"Stiles is Derek and Cora's friend. They had Noah contact me for help. Stiles needs someplace quiet to recover. Somewhere out of society's gaze, where the people are compassionate enough not to stare or ask questions. Where he might find a measure of peace."</p><p>Her hand moves along his scruff, not quite petting but close. </p><p>"We had hoped, Noah and I, that you, above all others, would understand Stiles's position. He was, before all this mess, a bright, sarcastic, and lively young boy. Cora says he reminds her a lot of you. He's been through a lot. There are few who truly understand what he's been through. Whether you enter an engagement or not, we will support Stiles here at Maplebrook for as long as he needs, but I had hoped he could turn to you as a kindred spirit at the very least."</p><p>Talia ruffles his fur one last time and stands. "Visit him, at least once, before you make your decision. Please?"</p><p>Peter lets out a long sigh. He can't, in good conscience, say no to such a heartfelt plea. He yips once in acknowledgement.</p><p>"Thank you, Peter. I'll see you in the morning for breakfast."</p><hr/><p>It takes Peter three days before he gives in to curiosity and heads to town. It's a nice day for a walk, sunny and cheerful, so different from his standard disposition. There's a shortcut to the village through the southern gardens, which are a bright riot of color with all the flowers in full bloom. He pauses among the roses. It's customary to bring a token when visiting an omega, though Peter is still not sold on the idea of courtship between them. He extends a single claw and cuts a rose from the bushes. He uses a claw to remove the leaves and thorns from the rose, leaving it safe for an omega to hold.</p><p>The walk to the village is not long. The actual road winds around Beacon Manor, offering stunning views of the property. He cuts through the wilderness, then across a few farms to the village proper. The farmers pay him no mind, used to the Manor residents passing through.</p><p>There are few people out when he reaches the street toward Maplebrook, which he prefers. The residents of Beacon Hills are used to his mangled visage. No one stops to gawk or gives him a second glance, and for that he is grateful. He raps on the front door without anyone speaking to him. That changes, of course, when the door opens. The butler bows and ushers Peter into the reception room.</p><p>"If you would wait but a moment, I will fetch Lord Stilinski."</p><p>Peter nods and turns to inspect the framed art on the walls. It's hardly changed from the last time he was here, almost a decade ago. His aunt Victoria had lived here before her death—natural causes from old age—and she'd had a refined, minimalistic sense of taste. The paintings are of natural landscapes in muted colors. Very calming. He appreciates that calm in this moment.</p><p>The door opens and Peter turns to greet Stilinski. The man offers his hand to shake, then gestures for them to sit.</p><p>"I'll admit, I'm surprised by your visit," Stilinski says. "Have you given my proposal more thought?"</p><p>"Talia impressed upon me that I should at least meet your son before turning down what is likely my only option for marriage."</p><p>"Okay." Stilinski nods. "Good. Thank you." He starts to stand, then stops and sinks back to the couch. "I should warn you, he is not well. The matter with the nogitsune left him out of sorts. It's early still, but we are hoping he'll make a full recovery."</p><p>"I understand," Peter says. He understands more than any person who's never faced tragedy could.</p><p>"Thank you." Stilinski stands and motions for Peter to follow. "You've come on one of his better days."</p><p>They cross the hall into the Green Room. It was one of his aunt's favorite rooms, part sitting room and part solarium. Bright light streams in through the glass ceiling over the far side of the room. Potted vines hang from hooks in the ceiling where glass turns into wood and plaster. There is a near maze of potted plants on the floor of the solarium portion and among them sits a pale beauty in a white wicker chair.</p><p>The omega is stunning. He seems almost ethereal amongst the foliage, yet another flower in bloom. But his honey-brown eyes are vacant as they stare out over Maplebrook's modest garden, and he seems completely oblivious to their presence.</p><p>A nursemaid moves from the chair opposite the omega and stands to the side of the room, giving them some privacy with Stiles. These catatonic phases are often enough, then, that Stiles requires a keeper. Peter was never fond of his own nurse, Jennifer, though the woman watching over Stiles seems to have a much more pleasant demeanor than Jennifer had.</p><p>Stilinski crouches in front of his son, taking the younger man's hands in his. "Stiles, there's someone here to meet you. You remember we talked about Lord Peter Hale, right? He's come to visit."</p><p>There is no response to Stilinski's words. Stiles barely even blinks.</p><p>Peter remembers exactly what it's like to be trapped in his own head.</p><p>"May I?" he asks before stepping closer. Stilinski nods and moves back, allowing Peter to take his place.</p><p>As he steps closer, the left side of Stiles's face comes into view. He understands now, why they are considered such a match. The beauty of the omega's face is marred by a backwards five cut into Stiles's left cheek. The lines are rough and uneven, suggesting hesitation and a lack of practice with a knife. If Peter had to guess, he'd be inclined to believe Stiles did that to himself, though the why of it remains a mystery.</p><p>He keeps his expression pleasant, not letting even a flicker of surprise show. He has his own scars. Who is he to judge the appearance of another? Even with the red marks, Stiles is still a beauty. Perhaps even because of the red marks. They engender a kinship that grows deeper the more Peter learns about Stiles.</p><p>"Hello, Stiles. My name is Peter." He's surprised how cold Stiles's hands are. He covers Stiles's hands with his for a moment, hoping some of his near excess of warmth will transfer. Werewolves are known to run warm and it's something he's happy to share. "It's very nice to meet you. I brought you something." </p><p>Peter pulls the rose from his pocket. He gently turns over Stiles's right hand so that it's palm up. He places the rose in Stiles's hand and curls Stiles's long fingers around the delicate blossom. There's a faint twitch in Stiles's fingers as his hand closes around the rose. Stiles's gaze stays distant and unfocused.</p><p>"I hope to see you again." On impulse, Peter bends down to kiss Stiles's knuckles.</p><p>When he stands, Stilinski is watching him shrewdly. "Is it your intention, then, to marry my son?"</p><p>Peter nods. "If you would allow it, I would like to follow the traditional courtship as much as can be allowed given your son's condition. When your son wakes," a shadow crosses Stilinski's face, he is unsure if his son will ever wake but Peter has hopes, "perhaps then we can discuss marriage."</p><p>Stilinski nods. "As you wish." He turns to the nursemaid. "Allow me to introduce Heather. She is his primary caretaker. If I am out of the house, she'll make sure you're allowed in to see him."</p><p>Peter nods his thanks. "Can you tell me more about his condition?"</p><p>Heather curtsies and begins a thorough listing of the symptoms Stiles has exhibited since his catatonia began. Peter remembers what it was like to climb out of his own head. He hopes he can help Stiles do the same.</p><hr/><p>The sun is low on the horizon. Stiles is unsure where he is or how long he's been sitting there, staring out at the beautiful garden. He's in a room filled with life—with greenery and light—and it eases a portion of the darkness inside of him. He's not in London anymore. The countryside, perhaps? His mother had relatives in the country. Is that where they are?</p><p>His thumb brushes over something soft, smooth. He shifts his gaze. His movements feel like molasses, slow and thick, as if he were commanding someone outside himself. There's a rose clutched in his hand. It doesn't match any of the flowers in the room with him. Did someone give it to him? He has a vague sense of warmth and a smooth voice. The rose is coral. In the language of flowers, this signifies an offer of friendship or sympathy.</p><p>He smiles. The expression feels strange on his face. It's been too long since he smiled. He looks down at the rose and brushes his fingers over the soft petals.</p><p>He hopes whoever gave him the rose will visit again.</p>
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